The Other Side of the Outsiders
by Rosie.Just Rosie
Summary: Have you ever wondered what Darry was really like before their parents were killed and before all his responsibilities? Or what the Outsiders book was like from Darry and Soda's POV? Well, I have to and this is what I imagined it would be like.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! New story for you here! If you can't tell we love the Outsiders! Hope you Enjoy! Please R&R!**

**Darry's POV**

"Boys! Breakfast is ready and if you don't get down before its cold, you won't get any at all!" Mom yelled from downstairs. We all knew she was serious, it had happened to us many times before. I heard Sodapop's feet running anxiously through the hall, with Ponyboy's following less excitedly after. I groaned as I willed my eyes to open. The morning light streaming in from the small window on the other side of the room was blinding. I turned away as I stretched and walked downstairs groggily. I've never been much of a fan for mornings, especially since I graduated a few months ago. I'd let my sleeping schedule get a little off, okay a lot. I'd been staying up fairly late, reading and watching movies and sleeping in late, to at least 10 a.m. The only days I ever got up this early anymore was Saturday and Sunday's. Mom didn't have to go to work and she always made us pancakes with bacon and eggs.

I glanced at the clock on my way to my seat at the table, in between Soda and Dad. It read eight O'clock. For me, that was early. Everyone else was mostly awake already, but I took a little time. "Morning Sleepyhead." Dad said mockingly as he squeezed my shoulder affectionately. I smiled. My dad was my absolute hero and best friend. I told him everything, and we did everything together. We were joined at the hip. My dad was incredible handsome. He was tall and had dark hair, that complemented his free chocolate brown eyes. He had laugh-lines near his eyes and mouth, but they strangely didn't make him look old. If anything they added an extra sense of youth about him. People often would mistake us for brothers instead of father and son. He didn't look a day over twenty-five, even though he was already forty. I didn't think we looked that much alike, but sometimes people didn't know who was who. I've always thought they were messing. I would never be as handsome as Dad was.

Sodapop, on the other hand, was as handsome as any fifteen year-old boy could be. He had Mom's beautiful dark blond hair and Dad's carefree brown eyes. He had a slim figure and was always smiling. He could make you smile no matter what. He just had a feeling about him. I don't think I've ever seen Soda anything but happy, except maybe when Mickey Mouse got sold, but we don't talk about that. He always seems to be high, but he never smokes or touches a drop of alcohol. He's never needed to. Everything is exciting when Soda is around. He looked over at me and smiled as syrup leaked out from the edges of his stuffed mouth. I couldn't help but laugh. Behind him I saw Ponyboy laughing too.

Ponyboy is small for his age. He's thirteen and the smartest kid I know. Athletic too; star of the track team, with a high IQ and takes higher up classes. He's got a bright future ahead of him, unlike Soda who's barely hanging on. Pony has long, greased-back light brown hair with an almost reddish tint to it, with grayish-green eyes. While Soda and I have very distinct features plucked virtually from our parents, Pony is all his own. Almost a perfect blend of Mom and Dad. Ponyboy is a handsome kid, but not quite like Dad or Soda, he's his own kind of handsome. He isn't much like any other greasers. Most greasers are running around robbing stores and such, while Ponyboy sits and reads all day long, and I'm sure if he could escape into one of his books he probably would. That kid is special, always has been.

Mom finally sat down with us as Soda piled his plate with three more pancakes, and refilled his glass of chocolate milk. Soda, Pony, and I basically live off the stuff. That and chocolate cake, which we always have in the fridge. We ate non-stop. Soda was rattling on about some crazy dream he had last night while we ate, almost choking from laughing so hard. Soda has some pretty crazy dreams, and exaggerated them even more, which made it so funny. Half the time I don't believe that he actually had any of these dreams and that he is just making this stuff up as he goes. Wouldn't surprise me. Nothing like one of Sodapop's 'dreams' to wake you up in the morning.

"So, are you guys ready for the trip to the country next weekend?" Dad asked. Dad took us all up to the country any chance we got. He took me and my brothers hunting, and Mom even came with us sometimes. It had become more of a tradition than anything else. We always made time for our trip up there. We all nodded eagerly, we loved the trip as much as Dad did. He smiled and proceeded to tell us the plan. The plan was always the same. We would wake up at the crack of dawn and pile into the car and take the two hour trip West to our spot. We always rented the same little hunting cabin that may as well be ours anyways considering how much we use it. Then we would go and set up our hunting gear and head out before we even unloaded the car. After we got some game we went to get breakfast at the local diner. Then we went fishing and just enjoyed each others company. It was a comfortable routine, and no one ever complained.

We were interrupted by a knock at our door. Most likely one of our gang, our group of greasers that may as well be family. Every once and a while we would get one of the gang at our door, asking for a place to stay because their folks were being difficult. Johnny's parents beat him, and Dally's just didn't care. Two-Bit doesn't talk about his family much, and Steve doesn't care that much. We all wish we could help Johnny, but there isn't anything we can do about it, and he never says anything about it, so we let it be. "I'll get it."I said as I stood up to answer the door. To my surprise, it wasn't one of the gang, it was Paul Holden, one of my best friends. He generally didn't come this early. "Hey, Paul. What'cha doing over so early?" I asked, curiously. "Well, the team is gonna have an early practice. We need all the help we can get with the newbies." I chuckled and looked back at my father who was watching me and he nodded. "Sure. Just give me a minute to get ready." I replied.

I ran back to my room to get changed. Even though Paul and I had already graduated, we helped with the team a lot. Paul had been the team's halfback, probably the best one our school has ever seen, I reckon. He could run faster than anyone I'd seen, even faster than Ponyboy, which is saying something. You didn't want to go up against him to try to get to the quarterback, he'll tackle you in an instant and you won't have even seen it coming. More like a brick wall than I person. He was tough, and everyone we played knew about him. Everyone knew about the husky-blond kid who was faster than light and meaner than a lion. He wasn't really mean, though. Just on the field. Paul just got fired up when it came to football, it's nothing personal. But if it was personal, you better wish to stay off the field.

Paul didn't scare me, though. I could take him, he hasn't beat me once in a fight, and I plan to keep it that way. I was six feet tall even, and I had a nice build. I was broad-shouldered, and plastered with muscle. My hair was a spitting image of Dad's, dark-brown and kicking out in the front and back. People would tell me sometimes that I had eyes like the sea, and that when I got real worked up about something, they would turn frozen, but I didn't get that way a lot. Some said that I have my mother's eyes, but I'm not sure if I believe that. My mother's eyes were real pretty, just like her, not quite blue and not quite green but the deepest shade of that color. Mine were pale. Maybe the same in between my mother's were, but a lot paler than hers. Personally, I thought mine were more like the sky, and her's were the ocean, but who's gonna argue with a compliment.

I ran back to the front of the house and out the door with Paul. He wasn't quite as tall as I was, but his speed made up for that. He had husky-blond hair and deep brown eyes. Not eyes like Soda or Dad, Paul's had a hardness to them that had never touched Dad or Soda's. Paul was rough on the edges, and didn't like it if you came uninvited to something. He was real picky about who his friends were, and I often wondered how I made the cut. I was as close to a greaser as he would get. I lived on the East side of town, the greaser side, and Paul was a Soc. He lived on the West side, where everyone had fancy houses and Mustangs, while greasers live in beat up old houses and drive souped-up cars. I can't complain about where I live. It's nice enough. We got beds, and running water, and a car that works. We don't need anything fancy to be happy, we just need each other. My Dad told us that on multiple occasions when he would come home from a long days work with little to show for it. He made enough to keep us afloat, and for a while, during my childhood, I hadn't even realized just how deep we were. I never knew how hard my Dad worked each day to put food on the table. When I learned that, he became more my hero than any person in tights and a cape could ever be. My Dad was always happy, no matter the circumstance, and had passed that to Sodapop. I tried to be like that, but I always found at least one thing wrong, so I stopped trying.

We drove to the school practice field in Paul's shiny red mustang. The seats were made of light tan leather with cherry red trim and they were just as shiny as the rest of the car. How shiny it was made me scared to touch anything, in fear of making it's shine go away. My family has never had a shiny car, much less a shiny anything, and sitting in Paul's tuff Mustang made me feel like I was sitting in a jewel.

When we got to the edge of the field, everyone was just standing around, staring into space. The few Juniors who weren't were attempting to run drills, unsuccessfully. There were no Seniors on the team this year, which meant there wasn't any authority. Coaches didn't come on Saturdays and the team only listened to Seniors. That's where Paul and I came in. Everyone seemed to be intimidated by us. Whether it was our looks and age or our legacy as the best duo our school has ever seen that frightened them, I couldn't tell you. I found a particular enjoyment in seeing the fear and worry cross their faces as they shifted their weight when we walked up.

The way we liked to get their attention was to walk up the edge of the field and stare at them while they squirmed under the pressure and tried to get everyone to pay attention. We counted in our heads to two minutes, and if someone spoke we started over. It taut them respect and the right way to act under pressure. It also helped us judge who could take criticism and us watching them that day. Typically the results were consistent. The sam people would break and the same people would stand there straight, staring right back at us. Those were the tougher kids.

We ran drills with them for a while after that, giving them criticism left and right. These kids just didn't know how to play a game of football. Paul and I sighed as we talked about it. Eventually we got tired of watching them humiliating themselves and sent them home. Some of the boys on the team visibly hated me, because I was a greaser. There wasn't a single greaser on the team, so I was alone. It had concerned me when I first joined the team back in freshman year, and I probably wouldn't have done it if it wasn't for Paul. He held off the Socs until they respected or feared me too much to try anything. The Socs always gave me dirty looks as they passed, and I just stared back at them, not letting them win. Paul had never looked at me like that, not one single time. We'd been best friends since middle school. I honestly don't even remember how we became friends, and it really didn't matter. We joked about everything, and we were almost never separated. But when we were, I knew what he was doing. He was out jumping Socs. We had an unspoken agreement, one where he would leave my gang alone as long as I didn't stop him from going after others. I'd do anything to keep my family safe, and the gang may as well be my brothers. We'd grown up together. But they were closer to my brothers, mainly cuz I was friends with a Soc and they all despised Socs. Paul knew I'd do anything to protect Pony and Soda, and I knew he didn't particularly enjoy jumping other Socs. He'd said it was his 'saving grace' though, when I asked him why he did it anyway. He said that he had to do something other than live on the West side to maintain his Soc status. He was already thought bad of because his best friend was a greaser, so the only thing for him to do was to jump the other greasers. Although our own agreement didn't apply with the other Socs. I still had to constantly worry about my brothers getting jumped by the Socs. The other, meaner ones. Paul never laid so much as a finger on my brothers.

"So, how are things on the East side of town?" Paul asked. He always asked me this. "Same as they always are. Never quite as good as the West, but we make due. Johnny's parents are still beating him, and Dallas's still don't care." I replied, the answer would always be the same, but I knew both of us were hoping that one day it would change. Paul told me once, after his buddies beat someone up real bad, that he never really like hurting people, but he felt like he had to. If he could change it, I knew he would. I would too, and I know that if given the chance, no one would waste it. No one on the East side at least. We got the short end of the stick in every situation. We always had to look around like we were criminals or something. Well, some of us are, but even the ones who don't do anything bad are constantly looking over their shoulders, like it would be their last day. And for some, it might be, if a Soc is mad enough. It's happened before. Happens all the time in New York City. Or at least thats what Dally says. He used to live up there, has seen people die.

Neither one of us said a word for a few minutes, thats usually how it is until one of us changes the topic, but not today. "It just isn't right! I shouldn't have to hate you! Shouldn't have to hate your brothers, or your gang, or anyone else who hasn't done nothin' to us! It just ain't right, Darry! And it's never gonna be! I try to change their minds sometimes, I really do! But they don't listen to a word I say, they say I'm biased. I don't know maybe I am." Paul exclaimed. I was caught off-guard. He's never said anything like that. I didn't know what to say to him, so I just stared at him and then out my window, starstruck. I don't think he meant to say that out loud, because he didn't say anything until he dropped me off at the house. "Thanks for the ride, Paul." "No problem." And that was that.

I walked into the house, still trying to figure out what brought on Paul's outburst, but tried not to look to lost. Soda met me at the door. "Hey Darry!" He paused and looked at me after jumping on me. He must've caught my blank stare. I thought I saw worry cross his eyes as he looked into mine. "What's wrong?" He asked, calm. I shook my head and picked him up like I usually do. We're always rough with each other. I flashed him a smile and tried to hide my confusion. "Nothing's wrong, Sodapop! Those kids just don't know what a good game of football looks like." I joked. He laughed, back to normal. "You got that right. They wouldn't know what it was it if hit 'em in the face. Which most of the time the ball does anyway! Ha!" He said, starting to laugh hard. He was always so pleased with himself when he made a joke.

The rest of the day went on as normal, Soda joking about everything and all us laughing. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, nothin' ever did around here. We had a normal dinner and a normal conversation. We packed for the trip to the country, like we normally did nearly every weekend during summer. I fell asleep thinking about the only not normal thing that had happened in a while. Paul's exclamation. It probably didn't mean much, but I couldn't help but feel like there was something hidden in there for me to hear. As almost a warning.

**A/N: Let me know what you think, even if it's bad!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey you guys! Sorry, I know we are a little more than two weeks behind! I'm so sorry! But, homework has been a bit crazy the past two weeks, we've got big state tests next week so it's been a lot of study guides and what not! Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

"Hey Soda! Where you goin' all dolled up like that? You gonna go see Sandy?" Ponyboy teased from the doorway as I got ready. "Aw, shut up man! You know you're just jealous 'cuz girls just can't stay away from me!" I answered, finishing greasing my long blond hair back. It was true, girls never left me alone at school. Greaser girls anyway. Even some Soc cheerleaders checked me out sometimes. I enjoyed the attention, so it didn't bother me. I never payed any attention to them anyway. I was to caught up in Sandy. She was the love of my life and I knew we were gonna get married someday. We'd been going strong for almost two years now. I remember when I first asked her out. I had just turned thirteen and I had a huge crush on her, so the gang dared me. I wouldn't have done it except for the fact that that was what we were betting in that game of poker, whoever lost had to ask out Sandy for me. I tried to argue with them placing that, but they just wouldn't lift it. They all knew I stunk at poker and would lose, easy prey. After that day when I asked her and she said yes, I've never looked back.

"Naw. I'm just jealous that I can't break mirrors with one look like you can." Ponyboy said. As I started after him he bolted from our room to Darry's. Pony and I shared a room. I ran right after him and straight into our older brother's room, and tackled him onto the bed. Darry was in his room when this all happened, and thankfully for him not on the bed. If we had landed on him like this, he'd beat the both of us. While Ponyboy and I wrestled on Darry's bed, he just sat and laughed at us as he finished whatever he was doing. "Say Uncle! C'mon Pony! You just gotta say Uncle and I'll let you go!" I laughed, as I held Pony in a headlock and had him pinned. He was on his stomach and I was kneeHis face was being squished on the bed and I could barely understand his reply. "Never!" He said as he squirmed hopelessly to get out from under my weight. Pony started to let out shorter breaths as my weight on his lungs increased. "Soda, if you don't get off Pony he might black out again." Darry said, laughing slightly at the memory. A few days ago, I had him like this and the stubborn kid wouldn't say Uncle, so I stayed on him, and then he just stopped struggling and went limp. It was kinda scary, but it was funny now. He was as stubborn as a mule. I reluctantly hopped off Ponyboy's back as he just lay there, trying to catch his breath again.

I walked over to Darry's mirror to check my hair to see if my tussle with Pony messed it up. I ran my fingers through it, smoothing it all back in place, and straightened up my clothes. I had on my favorite red plaid shirt unbuttoned over a white t-shirt and my jeans. "You going to see Sandy?" Darry teased, just like Pony. I couldn't catch a break when it came to her, but I didn't dare wrestle Darry. He had at least fifty pounds on me, and most of that was muscle. "At least I can get a girl." I kidded. I shot him a smirk before stepping out of his reach. I knew what would come if I didn't. He just laughed. It had become a sort of running joke around here that I got a girl at thirteen and Darry was still single at nineteen.

I laughed as I hurriedly ran out the door, I was already late. I ran all the way to the Dingo, the greaser movies, to meet with Sandy. I looked al around frantically until I found her, already in a seat with popcorn and drinks, with an empty seat next to her. I took a few deep breaths, to slow my panting, and smoothed my hair back again before entering the gate.

I walked over to her slowly as I thought about how lucky I was to have her. "Hey. Sorry I'm late, we had a situation at home." I said, sitting next to her. She looked over and her face immediately lit up when she saw me. She leaned over the armrest and kissed me. She pulled away an inch or two. "I've missed you. I was starting to worry about you Soda." She said quietly. We both just smiled at each other for a moment, staring in each others eyes, completely in love. "Ah...get a room." I heard a husky voice say from beside me. Steve. My best friend. I turned in surprise to see him and his girl, Evie standing there beside me. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "Just figured we could hang, man. Plus, Evie said she got somethin' important to talk to Sandy about." Only then did I get a good look at Evie. She was as close to the stereotypical greaser girl you could get. She had on a grey dress that went to the middle of her thighs, showing a little to much if she bent just the right way. She looked a little frazzled as she went to sit on the other side of Sandy, already beginning to spew some gossip story. Sandy grabbed my hand slyly as I talked with Steve. Steve was tall, and lean, and was as complicated as he was smart, though he didn't seem that way. He even had his hair in strange patterns.

Me and Steve had been best friends since grade school. Our girls were best friends too, which is how we ended up together. Evie and Sandy were nothing alike. Both were greaser girls, but Sandy didn't really fit the mold well. She was awful pretty. Blue eyes the color of brand new china, and blond hair the shade of the sun. She was easy to look at, but not so easy to figure out. She always seemed to be a new puzzle every time we talked, but I was starting to know what it meant.

The movie seemed to drag on. I hadn't really had time to talk to Sandy, which is generally all we did. I loved to talk to her, it was so easy. She always listened, and I think she actually cared. When I had a problem, she knew what the right thing was to say. She made me forget that I was just a greaser kid who did terrible in school and was bound to work at a gas station for the rest of my life. She didn't seem to care about any of that.

When the movie finally ended the four of us walked out together, Sandy and I still hand in hand. Steve had his arm around Evie's shoulders, and I knew they would ditch us to go make out somewhere once we got out of the gates. That was fine by me, gave me more time with Sandy.

Finally Sandy and I were alone, and we walked together along the streets under the wonderful display of purple and orange sky. The air was beginning to get colder and the stars were making an appearance. When the wind started to get colder Sandy leaned into me more. I threw my arm around her in an attempt to warm her and she wrapped her arms around my waist as we walked slowly through the park. We found a deserted bench in the empty park and sat together. We sat in comfortable silence for a while with my arm around her and her head on my shoulder. "You look very pretty tonight, Sandy, just like always." I said, breaking the silence. She was wearing a light yellow dress that was longer than Evie's had been, coming down to just above her knees. She had her hair pulled back slightly in the front, and as always, it curled in just the right way, hanging over her shoulders. She was stunning. She tilted her head on my shoulder so she was looking at me. "You don't look to bad yourself, handsome." She said as she leaned over and kissed me. We kissed for a while in the pale moonlight. She shifted onto my lap at some point to make it easier. When we finally stopped the moon was high in the sky, shining down on us, making her hair glow. She laid her head on my chest and sighed happily. I was willing to just stay in this moment forever, but I knew I couldn't. "I love you Sandy." I said quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace of the park. "I love you too, Sodapop." She said. We sat for a few minutes more before we knew we had to head back home. We walked hand in hand until we got to her house and she kissed me goodnight. I was reluctant to ever be without her, but I didn't have a choice until we turned eighteen and we could run away together. I couldn't wait for that day. She was my life now.

Immediately after I ran into the house I tossed my shoes in the corner. I hated shoes. They made my feet too hot and sweaty. Mom always yelled at me for running around in just my socks, which had giant holes in them now from running around with just them on.

Flopping on the couch I turned on the T.V. There weren't a lot of things on that weren't the news, but Mickey was on, so I settled for that. "Hey, Pepsi-Cola! You all ready for the trip tomorrow?" Dad asked as he rubbed my head from behind the couch. Pepsi-Cola was Dad's nickname for me. I've asked him before how he got my actual name, but he'd never given me a real answer. I hoped one day he would tell me, but that day probably wouldn't be soon. "Almost done, just gotta pack a few more things." I replied. I was really excited about going to the country. We always had so much fun. The country was just so calming. We didn't have to always watch our backs when we were there. No Soc's to worry about. We didn't have to act tough there. No one to impress. "Okay, well you need to get that done, buddy. We're heading out early tomorrow morning." He said, walking up to bed. "Yeah, yeah." I replied. I watched Mickey Mouse on TV until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.

**A/N: I know! I love Soda! Wish I was Sandy, she's a lucky girl! Sorry again about being late, I'll do better I promise! Please let me know what you thought. Next chapter...Johnny! Coming Soon I swear!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I just wanted to give a shout out and thanks to all those who are following this story and reviewing! Means a lot! Keep it up!**

Trembling in my room, I sat on my bed in a ball, in fear, knowing what would soon be coming. As I listened to my parents fighting I could hear my fathers slurred words. This couldn't end well for me. I had no idea what it was now, I just knew I couldn't run. Not now. Not when its already started. He'd catch me, and it wouldn't be much better for me. All I could do was wait. I tried to focus on the screeching of my bed springs, tried to distract myself. My room was small and stuffy, even with the tiny window on the wall that was always open. If it was just a little bit bigger I could squeeze through it. I could escape. I could run and go someplace safe. Not to far. Maybe the Curtis' house, or maybe with Dally.

Footsteps. That all I could hear now. Footsteps heading my way. My fear escalated, and I tensed. First mistake. He could see it, and he knew it meant I was scared, which only pleased him. I started watching the door, couldn't tear my eyes away. Second mistake. He knew it meant I was waiting for him to burst in here and begin. He thought it meant I wanted it to happen. There was a bang and my door was thrown open violently. I saw my father before me. In his same old jeans and boots, with his shirt unbuttoned and untucked, moving every time he budged. He had a beer bottle in his hand, nearly empty. He didn't look very angry, but he'd had a lot of practice hiding it, when he knew social workers were around, which happened a lot. I'd learned that the calmer he looked, the worse it was for me. The more angry he actually was. I knew how to deal with things like this. Don't say anything and don't fight it. Just let it happen. The less I interrupted, the sooner it was done. Usually. He was staring at me, too many emotions in his eyes to count. I knew remorse and love weren't in there though. They never were. Sometimes I wondered if he even knew what those words and feelings were, much less what they meant.

He walked slowly over to me, like a lion on the prowl. I was the prey, and he was about to make his move. "Hey, Johnny." He said quietly. He always used this not-so-innocent sweet voice. It didn't fit him, he had a voice like nails and a hand like a hammer. I didn't reply, and I dragged my eyes away. It almost hurt worse to watch him do this to me than to feel it happening. I always closed my eyes. Tried to pretend it was a dream. Tried to pretend that my parents loved me as much as I loved them.

When I didn't answer him he pounced. He grabbed the collar of my shirt, dragging my off my bed and throwing me as hard as he could into the wall. He still had his beer bottle in his hand when it happened and it shattered as soon as it hit the wall. The little amount of beer that was left spilled over my shoulder, mixing with the now running blood that was cause by glass fragments hitting my head, neck, and shoulders. He let go fast and I crumpled to the floor. "You're supposed to answer when someone says hello John, it's only polite. Where did your manners go. And look! You Idiot! You shattered my beer! I wasn't done with that! You worthless piece of garbage!" He screamed in his slurred voice at me. The air was knocked clean out of my when his foot reached my stomach. Then he kicked me square in the face. I felt the blood trickle down. I was curled in the fetal position, only half conscious when he dragged me again to my feet. I couldn't even stand straight. I was still clenched over in pain and the room was spinning. I couldn't even open my eyes or move my head to look him in the eye like I knew he wanted me to. I knew I was about to black out, and I hoped it came soon. He made a disgusted sound and let go of me, letting me fall limply to the ground. Once my head hit the wall on the way down, I was out cold.

I woke up about half an hour later in the fetal position. My head was throbbing and I could feel where the blood had been and where it was still falling slightly. The smell of beer, seat, and blood was overwhelming. I ached everywhere. I attempted to stretch while still lying on the floor, and the pain was immense. I sat up as slow as I could. Knowing from experience that if I sat up too fast, I'd black out again. I started seeing stars in my vision and the room began to spin slowly. Head-rush. Once I was sitting up, I leaned my head back against the wall and shut my eyes and took deep breaths. The pain was indescribable. Almost like someone was trying to blow up a ballon in my head as big as they could, and then someone else trying to stab it but it just won't pop. After a few minutes I could see again and I began to inch myself onto my feet, using anything I could grab on to help me up. Once I was up and steady I changed my clothes and walked to the bathroom to clean the blood up mostly. I had to walk cautiously, checking around every corner before leaving a room. It took a while for my Dad to calm down from the mood he was in and if he caught me it wouldn't be good. Hopefully, by now he would be passed out in his armchair that was facing away from the door. My mother wouldn't bat an eye at me leaving, so I wan't worried about that. My mother barely even knew I existed.

After I had erased almost all signs of what had happened I headed for the Curtis' house. Their house was like a refuge for me. They were always happy to have, and I actually feel loved for once.

Once I got there after walking in front the few houses that separated us I just walked straight in. Their door was always unlocked. Probably more for me than anyone else. They always knew I'd come straight here after a good beating, but they rarely said anything. "Johnny?" I heard Soda yell from in his room. "Yeah, it's me." I replied weakly. It hurt a little to talk, the pain in my stomach making it too much. Soda walked out of his room to see me, with Pony hot on his heels. You could see their faces change as they took in my small broken figure. I knew it looked bad. I could feel the gashes in my forehead and in my neck and shoulder almost as if I could only feel what I knew they were staring at. They tried to hide it but you could still see the anger and concern and sadness in their eyes. I knew they wanted more than anything to get it to stop, but the way they wanted to make it stop wouldn't end good for them. They wanted to get rid of my Dad. But they wouldn't dare go after him. Besides, they couldn't afford it legally.

Darry walked out of his room to come see, and his face fell. No one said a word when I just walked past them to their bathroom and shut the door. Their first aid kit was behind the window. I put one hand on either side of the sink and just stared at my reflection. I looked awful. My face was flushed and pale from the blood loss. I had many small cuts, but I had one long and distinct shoe shaped one on the side of my face, near a longer one from the glass of the beer bottle. Parts of my face were stained red from the blood. The permanent fear and pain and lost look in my eyes was more prominent than usual and paired with my matted and blood caked hair, it made me look frightening. Like a criminal from one of those old cop shows or something. I didn't understand why he did this to me. I never disobeyed him. Not once.

After a while I heard a rasp at the door. "Johnny? Can I come in?" It was Sodapop. I didn't trust myself to speak so I just opened the door for him. He had seen me like this before. Too many times to count. He didn't say anything to me as he gave me his famous crooked smile and clasped me on the shoulder. I always seemed to feel better around Soda. He just had a contagious joyfulness about him. Thats why he was always the first one to talk to me when I came over here. He knew exactly how to make me forget what just happened. He continued to joke with me while he grabbed the first-aid kit I had yet to get out and started to fix up my face and neck, all the while just sitting on the counter. He knew that this was a bad part of it. The reflection time, I'd heard him call it while talking to his brothers, thinking I was asleep. It was the time when I thought about what had happened and tried to think of what _I _did wrong to deserve this. They knew I still loved my parents, and no one knew why.

After I was cleaned up and the color had come back into my face we headed back to the living room, where Pony and Darry were trying to act natural by watching TV, but I knew they were nervous on how I would be. Today was one of the worse ones. Usually I don't black out, never get blows that hard to the head, but when I do, its really bad. It makes everything else hurt just as bad. Pony moved his feet, giving me room on the couch to sit down and Soda sprawled out on the floor. Darry was sitting in his armchair. The one that was close to Dad's. _Don't think about it._I commanded myself and zoned into Mickey Mouse on TV. After a few minutes of throbbing pain I fell asleep.

I woke up to the sound of whispered bickering in the kitchen. It was Mr. and Mrs. Curtis. "I just don't see why they aren't doing anything for him! The poor boy getting beaten half to death by his father, and the state just sits back and lets it happen! How can they do that?!" Mrs. Curtis struggled to whisper. I knew she was talking about me. They were both fully aware of what was happening. "I don't know, Michelle. I've called the Social Services many times and every time they just ignore it like I'm lying. They've told me before that it's because there isn't any room left in foster homes or orphanages. I know they really mean that no one wants a Greaser who has problems. It's not fair to Johnny. I wish there was something more we could do." Mr. Curtis said. I stayed lying down with my eyes closed. I wanted to hear this conversation. It was silent for a long moment. "Darrel. Why can't we just take him in? He almost lives here anyway as it is. We can find the extra money, I can work more hours. I just can't stand the thought that this will happen again like we both know it will if we let him go back there." Mrs. Curtis said. They were always so thoughtful and willing to help. I considered them more my parents than my own. They may as well be because Mrs. Curtis was right, I basically am already living here. I could feel them looking at me. "Michelle, you know I would. And I've given the state that option before but they've denied. Said it was too close to where we would be dragging him away from." Mr. Curtis said sadly. The smell of eggs filled the house. Mrs. Curtis was making breakfast. The kitchen was silent. They knew there was nothing more to talk about.

I soon heard the sleepy footsteps of the three brothers coming down the hallway. I decided to go join them, knowing that they wouldn't eat without me. I slowly stood up and made my way over to the table, attempting to rub the sleep out of my eyes. There was a spot already set for me, like there always was. Everyone just smiled and had nice conversations going. It felt like a normal morning. Like I was part of a normal family. But you could feel the tension between Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, though no one said anything and they kept their emotions out of their face. They kept looking in my direction, probably trying to figure out what to do. Then the table went silent, the tension rising as the brothers figured it out. They were all shooting worried glances at me, trying and failing to be discrete. I couldn't look up when I changed the topic. "So, you guys heading up to go hunting today?" I asked, already knowing they were. They shuffled around awkwardly. "Yeah. We're gonna have to head out here pretty soon after we finish eating." Mr. Curtis said simply. I knew that he didn't like to say it. He meant that once they left I'd have to get out of their house. And he knew that it was likely I'd go back to my house. Back to my father, and he hated that thought. He also knew that he couldn't take me with them, I would've said no even if they asked me. They already gave me so much more than they need to.

There was a new hurried pace of eating as we finished breakfast. An almost eager feeling to get out of this awkward conversation, and part eager to get to the country. I couldn't tell which was the thing they wanted more. It didn't take them long to be ready and they headed out the door, looks of concern and pity across their faces as they said their goodbyes. They'd be gone for a few days. That was more than enough time for my so-called father to beat me nearly to death, and now, with almost no safe place to go. Mrs. Curtis looked as if she was about to make them stay home when she saw my face change when I thought about it, but I quickly regained my composure with a happy "Have a safe trip. See ya." before she could do anything and walked out the door.

I figured I'd go find Dally or Two-Bit or maybe even Steve. Anyone was better than no one at this point. I started to make my way down to The Dingo where I thought I'd look first when Dally, Two-Bit and Steve caught up with me. "Hey Johnnycakes!" Dally said as he ruffled my hair as always. I winced and tried not to hiss in pain. "Jeez Dal! Don't do that. My head hurts enough as it is!" I said. Thats when he got a good look at my face. I tried to look away, ashamed of my family and didn't want to seem vulnerable in front of Dallas. It's just not something you do. His face instantly changed into anger. Plain hateful anger. I knew it was directed at my father, but somehow I felt like that was his look of disapproval in me.

I looked up to Dally and couldn't bear the thought that he thought I was just some weak kid with a sob story to tell. He usually kept his mouth shut, but I guess it looked really bad today. "Dangit Johnny!" He almost screamed, making me jump. "Why can't you just stay away from them? Why do you keep going back? Man, if I could I'd k-" "Dally." Two-Bit said, trying to get Dally to shut his trap. That one word was all it took. He looked down at my shaking figure. He stopped dead in his tracks. I knew I was shaking and I tried to stop it, but I couldn't help it. I was just looking down at my hands in the air in front of my legs who were tirelessly chasing each other in a circle, desperately trying to twist back time. The many scenes of my father abusing me flashed through my head, causing me to lose myself in the world of its pain. Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. That made me jump, made me think a memory was coming back to be true again. I realized it was only Dally and I looked up at him sheepishly. "Johnny. I ain't gonna hurt you. I'm sorry 'bout what I said. I'm not mad at you Johnny. It's your worthless no-good person in your house who think he has to rights to be called a father who I'm mad at. It ain't your fault Johnnycakes." He said, almost softly, trying to make me forget again. I couldn't stand all of the worried glances getting shot my way, like I was about to break or something. This had been happening for as long as I could remember and I'd never cried about something I can't change, and I wasn't about to start.

"I know Dal. You just scared me. That's all. It's nothing to get you all worked up about okay? So let's just forget about it." I said irritably. I got a few worried looks, but they all changed into trying to be happy, for my sake. They knew I hated it when they gave me those looks, but I knew they couldn't help it. They were just concerned about me. We walked in silence for a little bit before we got to the drive-in movies. We jumped the fence and grabbed a seat. I saw Dally's face grow with silent anger as the movie proceeded and around the middle he couldn't take the silence and anger anymore and bolted out. Maybe to go pick up some broads, maybe go pick a fight. It didn't matter to me what he did as long as he was careful not to get caught. I couldn't do this with him in jail. While Pony, Soda, and Darry were gone, Dally was my last place to go.

**A/N: Hope you guys liked it! I think it was my best chapter yet! Let me know what you thought by reviewing! I think I might stick with just these three characters POV for now...Unless you have someone else's POV you would like to see! I will have some chapters from other important people late I promise but these three will be a definite through the whole story! Let me know and I'll do it! But if you want someone's POV in the next chapter before I repeat the cycle let me know ASAP so I can have time to write it before next Thursday is here! Thanks again!**


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